


bad

by whitebox_yellowbox



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, I'm Sorry, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 10:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17465999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitebox_yellowbox/pseuds/whitebox_yellowbox
Summary: I wish that you would've treated me bad,The truth is you couldn't love me betterNow I'm left feeling twice as sadI wish you would've treated me bad





	bad

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was heavily influenced by Lennon Stella's song, Bad. (I heard it one time and decided I needed to hurt myself with some spideypool angst) I highly suggest you listen to it, it's really good and will make this probably hurt more lol

He probably should’ve known better.

But the truth was that every second over the last 2 years was the best of his life. He had finally got what he had always wanted. The one person he wanted. And he was so happy. He was always waiting for the day that he would wake up and realize that it was all just a dream. But it wasn’t a dream. It was his actual life. It was perfect.

Too good to be true.

And when it suddenly all came crashing down at his feet, when everything was brought up to the light, the picture was suddenly clear. All the unexplained absences, all the times he noticed something was a little bit off, all the times that it seemed there was something he wasn’t being told. The pieces he didn’t notice when they were together suddenly were screaming in his face. It was so obvious, how did he not catch on to the clues?

Maybe he had noticed them. But he didn’t want to believe what the signs were pointing to. Maybe he was under a spell. Maybe he was an idiot. Maybe he deserved this.

Every time he felt something was off, he should’ve said something. Instead he let soft lips and feather-like touches take his mind away from it. He pushed the thought out of his head in hopes that it would simply go away, but it only got worse.

Somehow he went on for 2 years without knowing, without finding out, without suspicion. How? Was he lying to himself? Was he just too naive? Or was it just wishful thinking? 

He hears the door to the apartment click, and he gets up from the couch.

“Oh, hey Petey.” Wade throws his keys down on the counter, looking at Peter. “Is something wrong?”

Peter silently steps forward holding an envelope from Alias Investigations, throwing a stack of photographs on the table. The photos all showed Wade out with a woman. Wade glanced down at them and stiffened.

“Pete— I can explain— It’s not—”

Peter cuts him off. “It’s not what I think?” He scoffs incredulously. “Is that what you’re going to say? That you’re not fucking someone else? That this woman is just a friend? That it was an accident? What do you think you can possibly say to make this okay?”

Wade doesn’t say anything, simply gapes at Peter. At least he has the decency to look horrified.

“How long have you been seeing her?” Peter’s hands were shaking, but he ignores them.

“Peter…” Wade reaches towards Peter, who steps back hastily.

“No! Tell me. You owe me the truth.” There’s fire in Peter’s eyes, anger bubbling in his stomach.

Wade hesitates for a moment, but breathes out, “Two years.”

Peter deflates, looking pointedly at the floor, trying to will himself not to cry. “Who was first? Me or her?”

“You.”

Peter can’t stop the sob that rips from his throat. Wade looks away from Peter, but Peter can see that his eyes are red too. “I wasn’t enough for you?”

“Pete, that’s not it, you’re enough, more than that—”

“Then why? Why ruin something that was so good?"

“Peter, I never meant for this to happen, I never meant for it to go this far—”

“Don’t give me that. You had two years to figure it out.” The tears on Peter’s face are blazing hot, and if looks could kill, Peter’s expression would commit genocide. “You didn’t care about who you hurt.”

“That’s not true, of course I care!”

Peter picks up one of the pictures and holds it in front of Wade’s face. It was a photograph of Wade and the woman having sex in the bed in Peter and Wade’s apartment.

“In our bed, Wade. In our home. Where was I? Out on patrol? Saving someone? While you fucked another person in _my_ bed.” Peter is shaking with rage, and he throws the picture at Wade, who flinches. “You make me fucking sick.”

Wade looks entirely shameful and remorseful, but Peter doesn’t care. He pushes past Wade, needing to get out of there immediately.

“Wait.” Wade grabs his wrist, and Peter turns towards him sharply, his hand balled into a fist. For a moment he thinks he’s going to punch Wade, but his hand quivers and drops. “Please, Pete, I’m sorry, we can fix this—”

“These last two years were the best of my entire life. You treated me better than anyone ever has. You made my life feel so full and happy for two whole years.” Wade’s expression changes to one of hope, but Peter continues. “And it was all a lie. None of this was real. You didn’t fucking love me. You didn’t give a shit about me. You just used me. Lied to me. Gave me the best thing I can never have.” Peter looks up to Wade’s eyes, and there are tears flowing from them. “Fuck you, Wade Wilson.”

Peter wrenches his hand from Wade’s grip and goes to the door.

“But I do love you, Peter!”

Peter glances back. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

The door slams behind Peter.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry man. What can I say, I like to make these boys suffer a bit...
> 
> I have another fic in the works (multi-chapter, semi-slow burn) which will be a lot less sad and obviously a lot longer, so be on the lookout for that in the near future


End file.
